Fic: Speak Low If You Speak of Love - for thesewarmstarsTitle: Speak Low if You Speak of LoveAuthor: Can owls write? Hedwig always seemed rather shifty.Giftee:thesewarmstarsWord Count: ~21,500Rating: NC-17Pairing: Harry/SeverusWarnings: *Not-Epilogue compliant, Alive!Severus, Top/Bottom!Snape, Virgin!Snape, Experienced!Harry, Top/Bottom!Harry, very minor blood-play*Disclaimer: The world of HP and its characters belongs to Rowling. The author of this fic has borrowed them for the purposes of storytelling. No profit was or will be made.Summary: When a secret is revealed during casual conversation, Harry sees Severus in a brand new light. Will he be able to convince Severus to take their friendship to a whole new level?Author's Notes: Thanks to the brilliant whitecotton for all her spectacular beta work and Brit-picking. I seriously would not have finished this if not for her. Also, I would like to say thanks to atypicalsnowman for making certain I understood exactly what was desired in a fic. Last but not least, thanks to R, B and D for allowing me to pick their brains as I ironed out the plot. The title is a line from William Shakespeare’s ‘Much Ado About Nothing.’Mod Note: This fic was originally posted here, but because the HTML on the offsite link was defying us, we're posting this the old-fashioned way. Enjoy!

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As it turned out, Harry hadn’t even touched the pile of presents stacked neatly beneath the tree. Severus mused that it must have taken all his self-control until Harry admitted that he simply hadn’t gone in the room. He had wanted to open them with Severus, and felt it unfair to do so without him there.

‘A Gryffindor through and through,’ Severus snorted inwardly.

The first gift was placed in Severus' hands even before he sat down, and he felt a smile tug at the corners of his mouth at the sight of Minerva’s familiar, expressive script. He always received something from her and could expect another from her under the tree, determined as she was to send one in Dumbledore’s stead. Severus braced himself for what this year would bring. There would also, he was certain, be a present from Harry. A little something that Harry insisted was necessary between friends. Severus, he remembered, had snorted at that, and at first had only reciprocated grudgingly and with tokens. However, as their friendship had developed, Severus had found searching for a gift for Harry to be a bright spot in an otherwise overrated holiday. Since then, they had both enjoyed selecting gifts that were outside of the ordinary, were rather expensive, and which meant something to each of them.

Harry, it turned out, preferred to wait while a gift was opened, rather than tear through his own. The delight in his eyes at the Headmistress’ gift—a Jell-o mold in the shape of a cauldron, complete with stir-stick—was genuine. He laughed when Severus handed it over.

“This is perfect; I wanted to bring a dessert to Ron and Hermione’s for Boxing Day, but I wanted it to be child-friendly too. Rose’ll love this.”

Severus handed the item over without hesitation, and while Harry looked it over, picked out a present for him, this one from Hagrid. He chuckled at the grimace on Harry’s face.

“More of his rock cakes, no doubt. I feel horrible just chucking them out, but after the first time, I don’t dare try one. Nearly lost a tooth!”

Harry dutifully opened the tin, displaying the misshapen cakes to Severus before setting them aside and reading the letter. His smile grew bittersweet as he read, but it took him only a few short moments. When the note was tucked away, Harry leaned towards the small piles and selected another box for Severus, this one from Professor Trelawney, much to Severus' dismay.

“I don’t see why that blasted woman has suddenly taken up gift-giving, and with me no less.”

“Mm, both of us. Only, she made me open mine straight away as she swore it was a charm against ill-fortune, lest I see the Grim while in America.” Harry dug into his pocket and withdrew a hunk of metal on a silver chain. “I figure it’s hefty and oddly blade-shaped, so at the very least I can use it to defend myself if I’m caught unawares or without my wand.”

Severus eyed it with distrust. “Do not be caught without your wand.”

The present in his lap turned out—to Severus' utter embarrassment—to be a book: The Fine Arts of Sex Magic and Divination. Along with it was an assortment of high-quality incense. While Severus spluttered, Harry just laughed.

“Look, she’s not putting the moves on you,” Harry finally explained when he had calmed down enough. Harry took the book and opened it to the cover page. “See, she’s re-gifting. Probably didn’t even bother checking to see what it was first. That was the original wrapping paper.” Severus' left eyebrow rose as he leaned over Harry’s shoulder to read the inscription aloud.

“To my darling Professor Trelawney—While my strengths most certainly lie within the realm of Defense Against the Dark Arts, I wanted you to see that I could branch out. I had my publicist print this copy in advance just for you. Yours truly, Gilderoy Lockhart.”

Sure enough, when Harry flipped the book over, there was the man’s name just below the title.

“A collector’s edition, then, seeing as how none of the others went to press.” Harry winked at Severus. “If you want, I could read your palm or paint runes on your body later,” he offered in a falsetto that was surprisingly close to Trelawney’s voice.

“Po—Harry, has anyone ever told you that you have a sick sense of humor?” Severus snatched the book away and shoved it under the cauldron Jell-o pan. “You next, but make it good. I need to clean the image that book gave me out of my head.”

“All right, how about this?” Harry pulled a flat, rectangular box out from the bottom of his stack and peeled back the paper. Though the handwriting had been McGonagall’s, the tag indicated it was from Dumbledore. When his prize was unveiled, tears pricked the backs of Harry’s eyes.

“I suspect that took quite some time to make. Minerva had quite the task, though she still credits the old man.”

Harry unfolded the quilt reverently, his fingers tracing over the pictures of his family. The names had been embroidered beside their mini-portraits, along with their dates of birth. But the design of it was the most impressive part; the Tree of Life took up the entire center area.

“It’s beautiful.” Unlike the other gifts, the blanket was not set aside, but instead spread open over his lap, as though Harry were afraid to let it go. “Here,” Harry said in a subdued whisper, handing Severus his gift from Dumbledore.

Severus took the oblong box with a quirk of his lips. He knew the shape well enough to guess that it was either a fine wine or expensive scotch. He slid the paper free gently and pulled the bottle out, eyes widening fractionally. With a quick glance in Harry’s direction, he opened the accompanying card and read it.

Dearest Severus,

You are, no doubt, desperately trying to figure out what this old man is up to. Unlike past gifts, the card for this one has been penned in my own hand. I assure you that I have no Seer’s blood in me, only hope. Hope, my child, that you will one day see Harry for who he truly is. I have made Minerva promise to impart this gift upon you at such a time as she was certain it would be well received.

Harry has a great many faults, one of which is allowing others to dictate his path in life. So when the war is over—and assuming, of course, that he has survived—he may find himself at a great loss. I am confident that you will (or have) guided him as best as possible while allowing him to make his own choices. As someone who shares a strikingly similar past, I am certain that you are the best for such a task.

Before you vent your anger, realize this: I never once asked this service of you, my friend. You did that all on your own. I suspect that in this process, you have also found a friend; a kinship that is both undeniable and unavoidable. I am happy for you both in that regard.

To this end, I have only one last request to make of you, and I hope you will find the fulfilling of it well enough worth your time that my asking it does not detract. I wish you to open this bottle of wine and share it with our young Harry on the eve of the New Year when you receive it. Drink to a new future, a happier future.

However, if this bottle does not find its way to you, then my heart weeps for the loss of a friend and the man who bore many responsibilities, some more soul-wearying than others. Should it be young Harry who is no longer there, then you may do with this bottle as you wish. Let not the bad memories hold you down forever, Severus.

I would have been proud to call you ‘son,’ my boy. It is one of my greatest regrets, the injustice I did you as a young man. May you find the peace and happiness you so greatly deserve, in this life or the next.

Love,

Albus

For a long moment, Severus could do nothing but stare at the note, its words blurring and shifting. It was so unexpected, such a surprise, that at first he couldn’t process that it was actually from Albus. Slowly he became aware of Harry’s regard, and he lifted his eyes.

“Even from the grave, Albus holds the ability to bring a man to his knees. I am...touched by his genuine care at times. This is to be shared between us on New Year’s Eve...if you do not yet have plans.”

“None that can’t be altered to accommodate your wine.” Harry couldn’t see the label, and rather than give it to him, Severus tucked it down between his leg and the couch cushion, as though hiding it.

“I believe it is your turn, Harry, to open a gift. Something less serious would be appreciated.”

“Ah, then I suppose I should open George’s gift.” Harry tossed aside the note tag and inspected his box, shaking it close to his ear as though to divine the contents. Or be forewarned.

Unlike Harry, Severus was a bit more leery of any present that came from the infamous Weasley twin, and took a peek at the card that had landed on his knee. For the first time in all his years, he felt his face split into a broad smile that made all the muscles in his cheeks rebel.

Harry froze at the sight, box forgotten as he memorized each line, each dimple, of Severus' face. His heart began to pound in his chest and he wanted to do nothing more than crawl the two feet separating them and mould his lips over that smile. He wanted to breathe Severus' happiness into himself and share his own joy at witnessing this moment. With an audible gulp, Harry tore his gaze away and set to unwrapping his present.

“Foolish Gryffindor,” Severus chided as the lid came free. It was worth his own embarrassment over the situation to see the color first drain away and then once more flood Harry’s handsome face.

“Oh bloody buggering—”

“Yes, you do seem quite fond of that term. Mr. Weasley actually told you in the note—had you thought to read it—that he had taken advantage of your inebriated state one evening. He had thought to market this likeness of your...other self for the good of society, but realized he was being a tad presumptuous.”

Harry stared down at the disturbing replica of his cock, unsure of whether he should pray for death or just be glad Severus was able to make a joke of the whole situation. Probably both. Merlin, but Harry was going to murder George when he got home.

“Er, right. I’ll just, uh, put this away, yeah?” Slamming the lid back down, Harry shoved the box to his side and under the quilt. “Um, he sent one for you but maybe we should open the ones from Hermione instead.”

Momentarily taken aback, and surprisingly warmed, Severus' eyes widened on seeing that this year’s hoard of presents far exceeded his usual meager pile. Hoping he’d not betrayed his pleasure, he quickly reasserted his calm and reached over to take a parcel from Harry’s hands.

Severus' gift from Hermione was, unsurprisingly, a book. She had sent him a limited edition and quite rare potions volume. Severus seemed quite pleased as he thumbed through it, making his usual disparaging comments about the author’s notes and skills. To Harry she had sent a set of the latest volumes on defense charms, potions, and barely legal curses and hexes. Ron would have had a hand in that, as the last book looked as though it had probably come from a raid on a Death Eater’s home. Harry wondered who the original owner had been, then decided he didn’t actually care.

After a break for tea, Harry presented Severus with his own gift. It had taken him weeks to find it and he had agonized over it for hours afterwards. With a wary look on his face, he slipped it onto Severus' lap and scooted back towards the Christmas tree. “Merry Christmas, Severus.”

One eyebrow shot up into his hairline as he studied the elegantly wrapped parcel. He was half tempted to shake it, but refrained. Instead, he slid a finger under the ribbon, sliding it off while keeping it intact. He fingered the lace-over-silk extravagance, amused. Noting the Gryffindor gold over Slytherin silver, he mentally awarded two points to Harry for ingenuity.

The paper itself wasn’t made up of the animated cauldrons he usually found on his gifts. Instead, this was plain white with black script across it, which he realized were famous Muggle quotes. It amused him that Harry still preferred that over the typical over-the-top wrapping paper used by most wizards his age.

Nestled in the box, surrounded by black and green tissue paper, was an old pocket watch that dated back to 1648. The outside was lined with emeralds and engraved silver serpents, and within the circle, in great looping script, was the name Prince. Shock coursed through him.

“I—” Severus' mouth continued to work, though no more sound came out.

“I found it in this little shop in London, a magical little area not too different from Knockturn Alley. I was there with Ron when he was trying to track down a particular dark artifact and...well, that doesn’t matter. What does is that I reclaimed it. For you.”

For the second time that morning, Severus was completely lost for words. However, after clearing his throat, he made the effort.

“I saw it only once...when I was a young boy. I believe I was seven at the time, and my father’s drinking had reached its peak due to his loss of employment. Mother had been worn down by his hatred of what she was for several years already...but that was the worst.” His voice was bleak, eyes wide and staring, focused solely on the memory. “He was supposed to be gone for the weekend, fishing with friends or some rot. Mother had taken me into the basement—she seemed to feel safest there—where she was telling me about Hogwarts, when I knocked over a stack of books. Behind them was a box and inside was this...” He rolled the pocket watch over in his hands, fingers seeking out the little catch.

“Her portrait is inside it,” Harry whispered.

Severus looked startled for a moment, and then he fumbled with the latch in his haste to get it open. Soon he was peering down at the face of his mother, her face sullen but with a dangerous glint in her eyes. His gaze darkened, but aside from the tightening of his fingers, there was no other clue to his inner turmoil.

“She was not a beautiful woman, and by no means am I what is considered good-looking; but you have to understand, Harry, that she was my mother. Regardless of her faults, I would like to believe that she loved me as best she could. Perhaps if my father hadn’t beaten her down so thoroughly, she would have been a real mother, but she was mine, for that brief time in which she lived.”

“It’s good. That you loved her, I mean.”

“Yes. She died of cancer. There were rumors that my father beat her to death or that she committed suicide, but in the end, it was a Muggle disease that took her. Of course, the only reason it was able to invade her body was because my father’s abuse had greatly weakened her spirit and magical core. That was the real reason I became a Death Eater.”

Severus seemed to shake himself from the cold grasp of his memories and he glanced up at Harry. “I seem to have cast a shadow over what should be a joyous occasion. I apologize.”

“Don’t. While I’m sorry that it brought up painful memories, I’m glad I found something meaningful to you. I wanted to get you something that wasn’t related to school or potions in general.” Harry reached out, covering the hand clutching the watch with both of his own.

“What do you say I start preparing the rest of dinner? I put the turkey in around noon, so it should be ready at four, so an hour or so. The roasted potatoes should be started now and I have a variety of vegetables to be steamed. Oh, but I decided to try my hand at a Yule Log rather than the pudding. I was never the biggest fan,” he said with an apologetic smile.

“As wonderful as all of that sounds, I haven’t yet given you your Christmas gift. Here.” What he pulled out from behind the couch was much larger than anything else beneath the tree.

Harry stared at the gift as though afraid it would bite him. In all their years of exchanging gifts, neither had gone beyond what could be considered serviceable and which could only be described as formal. A rare book on Dark Arts thought lost in the First War of Voldemort had been Harry’s last Christmas present, and for Severus—three years prior—Harry had helped him start up his own side business dealing with some of the most sought-after potions in the world. This year, however, there seemed to be an even deeper level of emotion behind the purchases.

With unsteady hands, he settled it across his lap, and realized it was a painting. Harry immediately thought this another comment that his house was lacking in décor, and merely wondered what Severus had picked out for him. His eyes flicked up, but Severus’ face remained unreadable, so he turned his attention back to sliding off the wrapping paper.

Harry gaped at the painting in stunned disbelief, but as his fingers crept down to brush over the canvas, Severus could see the happiness in his eyes beneath a soft sheen of tears. He knew in that moment that he had been right in his choice.

“It’s lovely,” Harry whispered when he finally found his voice.

“Did you think it was going to be just some art work for your house?” The blush that stole over Harry’s cheeks told Severus that was exactly what the brat had thought. “I recalled that around this time two years ago you mentioned wishing that you could actually converse with your parents. Then, do you remember when you had me accompany you to the Potter and Black vaults to finally combine them into one?” He waited until Harry had nodded before he continued. “I’ve already told you how pleased and surprised I was that aside from a few things, you gave the rest to Narcissa Malfoy after her divorce. I know it was because you think you owed her a life debt, but it was still well done of you.” He stared for a moment at Harry, his original pride in the action resurfacing. He then nodded towards the painting. “A little while ago, she contacted me, told me she had found Sirius Black’s original wand. The one the idiot mutt discarded before running away, no doubt convinced it would lead him astray. Regardless, the wand gave me an idea to use it to make a magical portrait. So, I borrowed your parents’ wands from you, obtained Remus Lupin’s from the Minister after explaining my plan, and commissioned a portrait.”

“Oh,” Harry said, letting the slur against his godfather slide past him. “Why are they so still?”

“The painting was only finished the day before we left and it will take some time for the magical properties to fully activate. I suspect that by tomorrow morning they will be interrogating you as to why you are vacationing with their greatest enemy.”

“Voldemort was their greatest enemy. You were a nemesis they helped to create, much like me and Malfoy. People grow up...I think I’ll hang it in my bedroom.”

Severus let out a choked sound. “Perhaps that would not be the most appropriate place to hang their portrait. If you are entertaining a visitor at home, I do not think you want Black’s running commentary on your technique the entire time.”

Laughter burst out of Harry, lightening the rather serious mood that had settled over them. “I think you’re right. I most definitely don’t want them watching me doing some of the things I do.”

Severus’ face went completely blank as he assimilated that information. He would have taken the comment in his stride had Harry simply said ‘shagging’ but the implications behind ‘the things I do’ were cause for deeper consideration. Dear gods, what in blazes is the boy getting up to? Although, upon further reflection, he wasn’t quite sure he wanted to know. It was humiliating enough to know that a student of his was rarely without a partner while he had never even been on a date.

It made Severus certain that Harry must think him a fool, but he determinedly shook that thought off. Aloud, he said, “Perhaps now would be the perfect time to start the final dinner preparations.”

Harry noted the pink stretched high on Severus' cheeks and fought a smile. “A wonderful idea! Join me and I’ll pour you a glass of the white wine I found.”

They spared a moment to put away their gifts—Harry taking longer as he placed a quick and sneaky wandless spell on the portrait to ensure his family didn’t start moving about until he was ready—and met back up in the kitchen. Harry, to Severus’ surprise, donned an apron before studiously washing his hands.

“You are quite talented in the kitchen,” Severus said suddenly.

The praise took Harry by surprise and when he glanced over his shoulder, it was evident in his emerald gaze. “Er, thank you. I didn’t use to like it until I moved into my own place. Once it was no longer a chore, I found pleasure in it.”

“Hence the Saturday night dinners you maintain with your friends.”

“Yes, and our Friday night dinners. I didn’t think you’d want to eat with a roomful of former students or else I would have invited you along.”

“I think not. I see enough of them as it is.”

The conversation died, but the silence remained relaxed as Harry cooked and Severus sipped his wine, sampling some of the foods placed before him. The Yule Log, he was surprised to see, was already done, complete with meringue mushrooms. When Harry’s back was turned, he snatched one from the side and popped it into his mouth, face a mask of complacent ease.

“I don’t know what you just did, but I’ll figure it out. You had better not have added anything weird to my vegetables.”

“Mm, really?” Harry leaned across the island, arms braced on the edge closest to Severus. “Why Professor, I think you just told a lie. Perhaps I should question you under Veritaserum? Or perhaps...” He moved in closer and before Severus could react, Harry’s tongue had darted out to swipe at the corner of Severus' mouth. “I believe the evidence speaks for itself. Chocolate, Severus? Were you picking at my cake?”

Black eyes stared with shock as the thin lips moved silently. All rational thought had once again fled at that brief touch, to leave a fluttering feeling in both his chest and—wonderfully—his groin. It was as though his brain had short-circuited and all he could do was sit there floundering about like a guppy.

“Dinner should be ready in about an hour, if you want to go and read or enjoy your presents. Probably you should take a moment to sort your thoughts on the subject, Severus, because I plan to do much more than just lick chocolate from your face.”

“Why don’t you go and read the book Hermione gave you?” Harry suggested, ushering him from the room. “She’s going to grill you on it tomorrow, assuming you’ll have wasted no time in reading it.”

Severus nodded as he allowed himself to be led back to the sitting room. By the time he had come to his senses, Harry was long gone and he was already seated with the book in his lap. Though he still felt somewhat overwhelmed by the out-of-the-blue attack, the warmth that was seeping through his bones couldn’t be denied. Smirking, Severus awarded two more points for the Slytherin tactics.

~ * ~

December 26, 2007 (Wednesday)

They were well into their fourth bottle of wine by the time ten o’clock rolled around, and Harry was feeling happier than he had in a while. Not only was he visiting with Ron and Hermione—the sole non-drinker in the group, for obvious reasons—but Severus was with him as well. More importantly, Severus seemed to be enjoying himself as he thoroughly trounced Ron in Wizard’s chess.

Hermione began to tidy up, piling the empty plates together and graciously allowing Harry to carry them to the kitchen. They fell into an easy routine of Harry washing while she dried, their silence comfortable. From where they stood, they could hear Ron’s outraged cry of “Bloody hell!” and Severus’ rejoinder of “As you see, Mr. Weasley, I am not as easily fooled as your friend. I, too, am a strategist.”

“He’s loosened up a bit over the years, hasn’t he?” Hermione asked causally.

“Well, the wine certainly helped a bit, but yeah, he’s not out to make the Hufflepuffs cry anymore.”

“I’m being serious, Harry.”

“So am I, Hermione. He has loosened up, but right now most of what you’re hearing is the wine and the opportunity to destroy Ron’s ego in chess.”

“And you’ve become quite close to him.” This was said with a sideways glance that Harry didn’t miss.

“Mm. Where are you going with this, Mione?” He swore when she punched his arm.

“Don’t call me that! And I’m only inquiring after my friend. Is that a crime now?”

Harry sighed and drained the sink, leaning against it so he could face her directly. “No, it’s not, but it’s also not a big deal. It’s nothing serious. Yet. He’s...different. Plus, we have that whole rotten past. Seven years of it. I’ve only just begun to balance it all out.”

“You’ve been eyeing him all night.”

Harry shrugged nonchalantly. “I won’t lie and say I haven’t been, but I also won’t let you harass me about it. I know what I’m doing, and when I’m ready to announce my intentions to the world, I’ll do so. First, though, I’ve got to announce them to him.”

Hermione smiled and turned back to the drying, pleased that he had told her as much as he had. She had thought for certain that he would hem and haw. It seemed he had read her mind, though, when he spoke next.

“Though it’s fairly obvious that they’re both completely engrossed out there, I’m aware that Severus rarely misses a thing. If he’s going to overhear me talking, I want him to hear what I mean, not just what I say. Stumbling over my thoughts will only lead to misunderstanding and I’ve worked too hard at finally getting him to accept me as a friend to bollix it up now.”

“Why Harry, when did you get so mature?”

“Idiot,” Harry replied with a laugh. “It’s clear I’ve been spending too much time listening to you chastise Ron for making a blunder of his words. Now, I must go peel our pet Slytherin away from your husband. It’s getting late for us—shut it woman! We keep earlier hours and our days are long—and tomorrow is the official ‘Clean Up After Christmas’ day. And you need your rest.”

He pressed a kiss to her temple before shooing her out of the room. After drying and putting away the last few plates, he picked up his dessert dish and made his way back to the living room, where Severus was already standing by the front door. When their gazes connected, Harry saw a heat there that caused his face to grow warm. Then Severus laughed and all the blood in Harry’s body drained straight down to his cock.

“Right, er, thanks for the wonderful dinner and all those pleasantries. Ron, get your wife in bed. Hermione, take care of that baby and my goddaughter. See you guys later. Come on, Severus, time to go!” Harry words came out in a rush as he grabbed Severus by the arm and tugged him through the door, barely giving him time to gather his wits before activating their international portkey home.

The moment they landed in the large living room, Harry tossed his dish onto the side table and grabbed Severus by the shirt lapels. Shock made the black eyes bright, but Harry didn’t have time to care about that. He was too busy trying to taste every corner of Severus’ mouth.

When his tongue tangled with Severus’, it was like coming home. Harry groaned, delighted by Severus’ timidity and pleased he was actively participating. It was everything he had dreamed of since his decision to seduce Severus, but he needed more.

“Severus, please, I need…I need to touch you,” he panted.

“You are,” came the gloriously dark growl.

Slipping a hand down between them, Harry sought and found the hard length barely concealed by the wool trousers. He cupped it and squeezed gently, nuzzling Severus’ neck with his nose.

“Tell me...tell me if you want me to stop,” he whispered, aware of the tension that had crept into the lean body.

“I...”

“I want to make you feel good. Will you let me?” Harry was aware that he was practically whining, but he couldn’t care less. Just to be touching Severus was enough to have him on edge.

Severus didn’t trust his voice and so he only nodded. A part of him was terribly afraid of how this would change the dynamics of their relationship, but another part of him desperately wanted this connection. He silently hoped the cost for this moment wouldn’t be too high.

His whole body jerked forward at the first brush of Harry’s fingers on his bare stomach. Severus sucked in a deep breath as the top button of his trousers was pulled free and he only barely manage to bite back a groan as teeth gently nibbled at his ear. By the time the nimble fingers had inched their way inside his trousers and pants, Severus was lost to Harry’s ministrations.

Severus fell backwards onto the couch and Harry came down on top of him, his hand now fully gripping Severus’ hard length. Harry’s emerald gaze was nearly black, with his pupils blown so wide that it gave him a rather sexy-dangerous appeal.

“Harry...” Severus groaned out the name, his hips jerking forward as Harry’s hand began to move.

“Tell me what you like.” He wanted to, truly he did, but Severus was not a man of that type of words, the ones of romance and passion, and so he could only relay his desire through his eyes. He knew that Harry would understand him though; after years of speaking without talking, they were masters of their own form of communication. Harry didn’t let him down now.

“Fuck. You feel so good, Severus,” Harry moaned against Severus’ slender neck, his hand working at a tantalizingly slow pace. At the end of every third stroke, he flicked his thumb across the head of Severus’ cock and then gave a small twist as he began his descent once more.

At some point, Harry had come to lay with Severus’ thigh trapped between his legs and he ground down against it in a desperate attempt to relieve his own ache. The sounds that slipped out of Severus were so erotic, so needy, that Harry couldn’t help but quicken his pace, matching his thrusts to his hand movements. He felt only a moment’s awkwardness for frotting at his age, but justified it with the fact that he needed to move slow. Too fast and surely Severus would reject him.

There was a catch, a slight hitch in Severus’ breathing that alerted Harry to the rapidly approaching orgasm. As he pressed his nail to the slit of the man’s cock, he bit down on the juncture of Severus’ neck and sucked at the flesh, making his mark. As he stroked Severus through his orgasm, his own washed over him, making his hips jerk almost violently.

It took Severus several minutes to calm his breathing and even longer to find his voice. At some point he became aware of the pool of come cooling on his stomach and Severus grimaced. Just as he had thought, it was all very messy.

As though roused by his thoughts, Harry slipped down his body, his tongue sliding over skin, cleaning away the traces of their indiscretion. He tucked Severus back into his pants—taking his time to do up his trousers as well—and scooted back up the couch. The vibrant green gaze locked on black as Harry began to lick clean the mess on his fingers. It was shocking and Severus was positive it couldn’t possibly taste as good as Harry made it out to be, but he couldn’t for the life of him tear his gaze away.

“I’ll grant you that there isn’t much about sex that’s clean, but it’s all worthwhile when the person you’re with looks so fucking happy he could die. I think…I think I really love seeing you that way, Severus,” Harry murmured, dropping a kiss to the bruise he had made. “Won’t kiss you on the mouth yet, ‘cause you’re not quite ready for that, I think, but I want to keep touching you. Just for a little bit longer. Then you can go to your room and shower. Probably over-think the whole situation, too, but that’s okay. I’ve got all the time in the world.”

“For what, Harry?” Severus managed to croak.

“To win you over. To make you see that we’d be good together as more than just friends.” It was a new goal, but after having seen the look on Severus’ face as he came, Harry knew he’d be damned if he’d let any other person see this side of him. No, this was a face only Harry could look upon.

When it became clear that Severus was too wrung out to move on his own, Harry gently pulled him up and led him to his bedroom. Rather than leave, though, he slipped out of the room long enough to clean the dried come from his legs, change into pajamas and brush his teeth. On his way back to the bedroom, he grabbed a hot, wet flannel.

In Severus’ bedroom, he carefully stripped him down and washed him before helping him struggle into silk pajama trousers. Then he did the unexpected and climbed into bed beside him.

“This way, come morning, you’ll know it wasn’t a spur-of-the-moment thing. I wanted this. Have wanted this, and probably for longer than I realized. But don’t worry, Severus, I won’t rush you.”

“Thank you,” Severus whispered into the night, once he was certain Harry was asleep.

~ * ~

December 27, 2007 (Thursday) - Early morning

At some point during the night, the blankets had been kicked off the bed completely. However, Harry, Severus discovered, was like a furnace. The hard, Quidditch-toned body was wrapped snugly against Severus’ own wiry one, and Harry’s warm breath stirred the hairs at the nape of his neck.

Severus mused that, all in all, it wasn’t an unpleasant way to start the day. It was still quite early; the sun had only just barely begun to crest the horizon and so the bedroom was still dark enough to encourage sleep. Keen black eyes studied the sleeping Harry appraisingly, taking the time to note all the changes that had occurred over the last few years. Though Severus saw Harry often—daily, during the working week—he couldn’t remember the last time he had actually looked at him.

To Severus, Harry looked years younger when asleep. Granted, that might be because one couldn’t see the ne’er-do-well glint in his eye or the hard set of his jaw. He would have made a good Auror, though Severus couldn’t say he was disappointed he did not pursue that path. It worked out nicely, having him assist with the first and second year students.

It was an understatement, Severus knew, to think that. Harry was, in fact, a wonderful assistant. While using Severus’ former Potions text in his sixth year, he had proven quite competent, and so Severus had taken note and adjusted all the lessons he gave Harry. The more complicated Potions were still a bit beyond him, but Harry had a level of confidence now that he had lacked previously.

When not helping with Severus’ classes, Harry was teaching the seventh year Defense Against the Dark Arts class. The newest teacher was none other than Bill Weasley, who had given up curse breaking to remain closer to his wife and children. It seemed fitting that he was the first professor to remain in his position for nearly eight years, and Harry enjoyed working alongside him.

Teaching was good for Harry as well. It had helped him settle into a life without the threat of a dark lord shadowing every moment, and he had matured greatly. It also gave him the time to go out and discover things that he hadn’t previously realized he liked. He had been able to date—or, as the Daily Prophet called it, reap his rewards—find a hobby or two, and bridge gaps with previous enemies.

Although, Draco had been more of nemesis than an enemy. Their fights had been more petty than life threatening until their sixth year, but that was to be expected of children forced into adult roles. It was...good to see them more companionable, though Draco still tended toward an unfortunate use of inappropriate taunts. It was a sign of true strength of character on Harry’s part that young Malfoy had not found himself in the infirmary for more than a few scrapes and bruises.

“Sev’rus?” Harry’s eyes were still dark with sleep, his hair more unruly than usual. Severus kept his face an unreadable mask.

“It is early yet, Harry.”

“Mm. Jus’ makin’ sh—” He yawned widely, eyes already drifting shut once more. “Makin’ sure you were still here,” he finished, pressing himself closer and settling his head on Severus’ chest.

“And where else would I be, Harry, when you are in my bed?”

“Dunno. Maybe you left to sleep on the couch ‘cause I hog the blankets.”

Severus leaned over him to peer down at the ground. “No, it would seem you kicked them to the end of the bed rather than stealing them away.”

“Oh. Cold?”

“No, Harry. Go back to sleep.”

“’Kay.” Harry was out within seconds of the command.

~ * ~

“Well, the living room is back in order. Thank you for letting me keep the Christmas tree up.”

Severus waved his hand dismissively, never taking his eyes from the volume that lay open on his lap. “Amazingly enough, the Wizard who wrote this book wasn’t a complete idiot.” He licked his index finger and turned the page, ignorant of Harry’s sudden fixation on the wet digit. “I take that back. Not only is the writer an idiot, but his editor is as well.”

Harry gulped, tuning out the rest of his grumbling as he watched the finger swipe across Severus’ tongue again. Bloody hell. Before the Christmas break Harry would never have noticed something like that, least of all become turned on by it. Now it was like his whole body tuned in every time Severus so much as sighed.

The worst of it was, although they had woken up together, they had risen, dressed, and done all their usual things, with Severus acting as though nothing had happened. Harry didn’t know how to address the matter, or indeed whether Severus was happy to forget they’d frotted and come together, and therefore wouldn’t appreciate Harry bringing the subject up.

He cast a furtive glance in Severus’ direction before making his decision. While Harry knew better than to do anything too extreme, the current state of his body required attention, and he doubted Severus would miss him. Just to be certain, though, he gave an excuse as he made his exit.

“Um, I’ve got a bit of a headache. Had it all morning, but it’s become worse. I think I’ll have a kip in my room. Would you mind a late lunch?”

“I can put together a sandwich from the leftovers, Harry. Go lie down.” Severus didn’t look up as Harry slipped from the room, his attention elsewhere.

Harry fled down the hall, wanting desperately to disappear into his room and toss himself off, but he knew that no matter how quiet he was—and he was not, by nature, a quiet person during any form of sex—Severus would hear him. Unwilling to make him uneasy in his own home, or advertise what he was doing by casting a silencing spell that Severus would sense, Harry opted for a cold shower and a nap.

The guest bathroom was across the hall from his room and he wasted little time shucking off his clothes. It was chilly in the tiny room, but it did little to soothe his raging hard-on. Turning the water all the way to cold, he jumped under the spray with a string of muttered expletives.

“Bloody buggering hell!” he gasped around his fist.

Harry glanced down and was relieved to see that at least that part of him was reacting appropriately. Biting his bottom lip, he scrubbed the bar of soap over his skin and lathered up his hair. By the time he was done rinsing out the conditioner, he was almost certain his skin was blue.

Harry wasted no time toweling off only to realize that he had brought no clean clothes with him. Scowling, he threw open the door and walked smack into Severus. Strong hands gripped his arms, holding him upright and Severus made a shocked sound.

“Potter, you idiot, you’re freezing!”

“Cold shower.”

“Cold...” Severus rolled his eyes, fully aware of just why Harry had needed one. “Harry, do you try to reach a new level of stupidity each day or is this a normal occurrence for you?”

Harry glared at him. “Shut up. I didn’t think you’d want to hear me doing that right down the hall.”

“So rather than turn on the television in your bedroom, you chose to jump into an ice-cold shower in the middle of winter. It is amazing you survived this long in life.”

With a sigh that said ‘why do I even bother?’ Severus reached past Harry for another towel, this one much larger and thicker. He threw it around Harry’s shoulders before hustling him towards his room.

“After you are dressed I want you sitting on the couch in the living room. Now go!”

After shoving Harry into his room, Severus headed for the kitchen where he prepared tea and hunted down the biscuits Harry had baked earlier that day. By the time he had settled the tray on the table, Harry had just sat down. Not one to beat around the proverbial bush, Severus got straight to the point.

“Harry, I believe you are under the misconception that I’m some sort of innocent. Sex is not an unknown subject to me, despite having never partaken in it myself…aside from yesterday, of course. However, I consider it fortunate that you only took a cold shower rather than trying to use a spell to ease your situation as the latter has been known to leave young men unable to become erect for several weeks.

“While I appreciate your consideration, please remember that I am still the Slytherin Head of House. Not only am I aware of the different types of relationships out there, but I have also studied how to help teenagers cope with their sexuality. Slytherins perhaps have the hardest time admitting their preferences to themselves, for they know that to be different is oftentimes a weakness.

“That having been said, I would also like to address last night. I understand that you had a bit to drink—”

Whatever part of Harry had remained frozen by Severus’ sudden speech jolted back into gear. Throwing off the blanket he had carried out with him, Harry leapt to his feet, outraged.

“I was not drunk! Believe me, had I been drunk, I’d have gone a lot farther that I did. I wouldn’t have forced you, but I’d have skipped a few steps.”

“Loneliness, then, perhaps? It is understandable in one so young.”

Harry muttered something cutting that Severus couldn’t quite catch. “Look, if you don’t want me to touch you then just say so and I’ll stop. However—however,” he repeated, holding up a hand to stall Severus’ response, “If you weren’t unhappy with it, then good, because I plan to do a whole lot more than just toss you off with my hand.”

Severus’ lip curled at the rather vulgar description. “If you’re going to be crass—”

“I wasn’t trying to be. It’s only that you keep assuming things about me, leaping to conclusions that aren’t true, and I was attempting to make a point.”

“Point made.”

Harry sagged back onto the couch, all the wind from his sails gone. “Well then.”

“Harry, whatever your reasoning behind instigating some sort of sexual relationship with me, I ask that you truly think about it. Once the line is crossed, you can never go back. It will change everything. Are you prepared for that?”

Harry’s face told Severus he was not. Knowing just how much of a brash Gryffindor he was, Severus could guess what exactly had gone through his head. Sex now, think later. He shook his head in irritation.

“I’m going to go and read. Alone. I suggest you take this time to really think about what you are trying to achieve. Don’t do this just to “broaden my horizons” or it will destroy all that we have striven for.”

He didn’t wait for an answer, but stood and left the room, taking only his teacup and saucer. He figured he would give Harry a few hours to reflect and return in time for the supper preparations. If he was ready to talk then, so be it. If not, Severus would make certain to lock his bedroom door when he went to bed.